His Uptown Girl. Gail Sattler

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      Georgette folded her hands on the countertop. “Actually, I ate my lunch as I worked. I hope that’s okay.” Her father would have died to think that she’d eaten while standing at the counter, as people came in and out. However, with all the excitement of doing something new, and running back and forth between the shop and the phone all morning, she’d been hungry an hour before it was technically lunchtime.

      It was actually kind of fun, breaking the rules.

      “I hope you don’t think we mean for you to work through your lunch break, because we don’t. If you’ve already eaten, would you like to go for a walk or something? There’s a place down the block that has great ice cream cones. It’s opened early because of our great May weather.” The second the words were out of his mouth, he paused as if to gauge her response.

      Georgette broke into a smile. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had the simple pleasure of eating an ice cream cone, or any kind of ice cream that wasn’t a part of a fancy dessert, meant to impress. Her father didn’t think ice cream cones were very dignified.

      She reached under the counter for her purse. “I’d love an ice cream. How long will we be gone?”

      “We? I… Uh…” Bob looked up at the clock, then shrugged his shoulders. “I hadn’t intended for any of us to take our breaks at the same time, but we can probably make an exception for your first day. Just a sec.” He turned and walked the three steps to the door leading to the shop, and opened it. “Bart!” he hollered. “I’m taking George for an ice cream down the street! We’ll be back in twenty!”

      Bob didn’t wait for a reply. “Let’s go while things are quiet. This doesn’t happen often.”

      He shucked his coveralls off, pressed a few crinkles out of his jeans and T-shirt with his hands, and met her at the door.

      “What about the phone?”

      “Bart will do the same thing we’ve always done. He’ll keep working, and when the phone rings, he’ll go answer it.”

      “It’s really nice that you don’t ignore your calls and let them go to voice mail.”

      Bob nodded. “When we’ve got someone’s car, they don’t want to talk to a machine. They want an answer from a person, even if it’s an ‘I don’t know.’ I feel the same way when I’m calling for status.”

      Georgette thought of her father’s charity. Only people who wanted to ingratiate themselves with him called. They found leaving a message more efficient.

      She hated dealing with the machine because she missed the personal contact. On the other hand, the way everything was handled now suited her well. She’d told her father that she could handle the organization’s details in the evening, since it only took an hour each day, and she never talked to anyone, anyway. This left her free to seek out something else to do during the daytime. He wasn’t pleased she had found something now, but didn’t press her for details probably figuring it wouldn’t last.

      As they crossed the intersection, Bob pointed to the north. “There’s a small mall down that way, if you ever need anything. Next door to the mall are a couple of fast-food places.” He jerked his head in the opposite direction, toward the residential area. “But if you want one of the best corned beef on rye sandwich in the world, there’s a neighborhood market down that way.”

      “It sounds like you know the area really well.”

      Bob smiled. Little crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. His whole face softened, confirming her earlier opinion that her boss was quite a good-looking man.

      “I grew up here. The reason Bart and I chose the location is because most of our initial customers were people we knew. It’s worked well, so we’re still here.”

      As they walked, they passed a number of specialty stores and small office buildings in the small commercial district. Not a single building was over two stories tall, and there were actually open metered parking spots on the street. The ambience of the district was nothing like the hustle and bustle of downtown. Georgette liked it.

      By the time they arrived at the ice cream shop, Georgette could feel effect of the unaccustomed weight of the steel-toed safety boots on her lower back, far different from too-high high heels. Thinking of her closet-full of spike heels, and the shoes she’d worn earlier, she inwardly shuddered at the thought of forcing her feet back into such things to go home.

      “What flavor do you want?”

      Georgette stared up in awe at the board listing the flavors.

      She probably could have picked an old standard, but today was a day of new experiences. Today was her first day of independence. Therefore, she wanted to pick the wildest flavor she could.

      She tipped her head toward Bob and whispered, “What’s Tiger Tiger?”

      He pointed to a bin containing swirls of black and orange stripes. “I’ve had that before. It’s a little strange. Orange and licorice. My favorite is the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.”

      She didn’t care if it was strange. She wanted to have an ice cream flavor she’d never had before, to celebrate her first day of doing a job she’d never done before.

      She turned to the kid behind the counter. “I’ll have the Tiger Tiger, please.”

      When the clerk began scooping the bright colors into a huge waffle cone Georgette reached to open her purse, but Bob stopped her.

      “No, this is my treat. In honor of your first day.”

      “Really?”

      Bob smiled and turned to the clerk. “And the usual for me. Thanks.” He paid the teenager.

      Georgette didn’t know how to respond. Of course it was only a simple ice cream cone, an inexpensive treat, but no one had ever given her anything when her father hadn’t been either watching, or would be informed later.

      “Thank you,” she muttered, thinking that she didn’t know enough nice people. Of course the people at her new church were nice, but she didn’t know any of them that well, since she’d only been attending church for a few months.

      When the clerk handed her the cone, Georgette gave it an experimental lick, confirming that Bob was right about the exotic flavor—it wasn’t bad, but it was a strange combination.

      On their way back to work they walked faster than she would have liked, but they didn’t have time to dawdle.

      “The phone hasn’t stopped ringing, Bob.” She paused to stifle her smile. Apparently there had been an ad in the help-wanted section of the newspaper. It had given her great pleasure to tell everyone that both positions had been filled. “Is it always like this? It hasn’t been when I’ve shopped before.”

      “It never used to be this busy, but lately it has been. We hope with you here, it won’t be so hectic, and we can all go home at a decent time.”

      She would gladly have worked as many hours as they needed, but she never would be able to explain longer hours to her father, who was not СКАЧАТЬ